


Hold On Forever

by orphan_account



Series: Teacher AU [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anxiety, Disabled Character, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Prom, Sledge Hockey, Teacher AU, Teacher Bitty, Teacher Jack, established relationships - Freeform, mild violence, past injury recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-16
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 01:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8870443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Eric Bittle doesn't think he's going to be standing at his boyfriend's sledge hockey game holding a sign that says, "Yo, Go To Prom With Me Jack Zimmermann," at almost thirty years old and yet...here he is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Every Now and Then, which was written for my 1,000 followers prompt fest, and I've gotten loads of requests for a sequel so here it is. It's going to be in two parts--and part two should be posted either tonight, or sometime tomorrow (depending on how quickly I can get it sorted). If you choose not to read the first bit, important information is--Jack became a teacher after a spine injury during an NHL game sent him into retirement. He's a wheelchair user, teaches History, and coaches High School Hockey. He and Bitty disliked each other when Bitty was hired on as a cooking teacher for an elective course. Bitty was able to help one of Jack's students get over fear of checking, which led to the development of their relationship.
> 
> This fic takes place a few months after that, during the same school term. This fic is definitely full of the fluff and physical relationship the first fic was lacking (which is probably why I had so many requests for a sequel). I've changed the series tag for the first fic so these can be listed in the same series instead of the fic prompt one, because I may do more in this universe later.

Beyonce was blaring in his headphones, his face pointed down toward his shoes as he hurried along the corridor, and he let out a yelp loud enough to hear over his music when a hand closed over his wrist and yanked. Bitty didn’t have time to look around before he was unceremoniously pulled through an open classroom door, but the moment he was, he relaxed.

Only one person in the school ever bothered to manhandle him like that, and he turned just as Jack was closing the classroom door with a purposeful click. His smile widened when the lock turned, and when Jack drew the shade down over the small window.

Shaking his head, Bitty approached his boyfriend—or well…guy he’d been out on four dates with—and laughed when Jack reached out again, dragging Bitty down onto his lap. The edge of Jack’s chair bit into Bitty’s thigh a bit, but he didn’t care. How could he, when there were warm lips on his, pulling and tugging the kiss deeper, dirtier.

“You know,” Bitty gasped, his hands fisting into the front of Jack’s pristinely pressed work shirt, “I give out detentions for this.”

“You gonna give me a detention, Mr Bittle?”

Bitty shivered, dipping his head low to nip at Jack’s neck—not hard enough to leave a mark, he wasn’t that reckless, but hard enough to make Jack suck in his breath. “I should,” Bitty breathed. “I should make you stay two hours after school doing lines.”

“Mm, lines? Or…?”

“Oh my god,” Bitty said, pulling away slightly to stare at Jack’s flushed cheeks and tiny smirk. “What has gotten into you, Mr Zimmermann?”

“Thinking about you,” Jack confessed. His hand drifted down Bitty’s back, cupping his ass which was perched on Jack’s thigh. “Someone mentioned you in my first period and I couldn’t stop picturing last night. In the truck.”

“Goodness,” Bitty said, a little breathy and pink in his own cheeks now. The night before, Jack and Bitty had gone on their fourth official date. They’d been together several months now, through the holidays, and now into the spring semester, but time together was scarce. Jack’s hockey team had done so well, they’d gone to the championships, so he was consumed with finals, marking homework, afterschool tutoring, hockey practise, and hockey games.

And the week before that, Jack had been called to do some charity thing with the NHL which Bitty didn’t totally understand, except that Jack was gone four days, and his sub was a nightmare that both students and staff hated equally.

When Jack returned, Bitty had all but tackled him, kissing his face right there in his classroom, open door and everything. They hadn’t been seen but it had been a close one.

Jack had suggested they make time for the date. Which had been dinner, then Jack took them for a drive into a secluded field where they did a little stargazing. After which, Jack dragged Bitty onto his lap and they made out like flustered teenagers for hours.

Bitty knew exactly what Jack had been thinking about that morning, because he’d been thinking about it too. Cupping Jack’s cheek, Bitty smiled. “My memory seems to be a little fuzzy. I think we might need to have another one. Just to you know…refresh.”

Jack chuckled, touching the tip of Bitty’s chin with his fingers before kissing him again. “I think I can do that.” His other hand gave Bitty’s ass a squeeze, and then he looked away from Bitty’s eyes. “Actually I euh…was wondering. I wanted to ask…”

Bitty touched Jack’s cheek, drawing his gaze back up. “Sweetheart?”

“I have a thing. Coming up. It’s…some friends are coming over for a small get-together to watch this piece ESPN is doing on my…on my career. I got asked to participate in this all-stars Sledge Hockey game, it’s the Canadian Paralympic Sledge Hockey Team v the All-Stars NHL team?”

Bitty blinked. “You’re…gonna play hockey with an Olympic team?” Bitty asked. “Are you serious?”

Jack shrugged, his cheeks going even pinker. “I mean…it’s not like I haven’t done it before.”

Bitty’s eyes went impossibly wide. “Hold on, Mister. Just…you’ve…been in the Olympics?”

“Yes?” Jack said, looking a little embarrassed. “I played with Canada before my injury. Then in the Paralympics after.”

“Did you…have you won a gold?”

Jack shrugged and looked away. “Two? And a silver before my accident.”

“Oh my god,” Bitty whispered, and shoved his face in Jack’s neck. “I’m dating a gold medallist. Oh I’m…if the assholes at my old high school could see me now.”

Jack laughed and shook his head. “Bits…”

Bitty looked up and smiled. “I’d love to come watch your special. Are they going to show your baby photos?”

“Oh god,” Jack groaned. “I really hope not.”

Bitty giggled, having seen one or two. “Sweetheart, you were unbelievably adorable. I don’t care what anyone says.”

“Thanks,” Jack said dryly, making Bitty giggle again.

“When is it?”

“Friday, at seven,” Jack said, and released his grip on Bitty so the other man could stand up. It was getting close to the bell, and they couldn’t linger without being overly suspicious. The staff were all aware that the two were dating, and even the students had mostly figured it out, but neither one of them had been flaunting it. Except for all the empty classroom make-outs, but Bitty wasn’t about to count those.

Bitty frowned, then sighed. “I think…I might be a bit late. I volunteered to supervise the prom committee meeting, but that’s from four to six. Is this…I mean should I dress up or…?”

“Casual. I’m wearing jeans,” Jack said.

Bitty gave him a look. “And the crocs?”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I like them.”

Bitty scoffed, but leant down and cupped Jack’s cheek, kissing him again and again. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

Jack reached for Bitty’s hand, squeezing it, then let him go so Bitty could slip out first. He carried on his way toward his classroom and tried not to smile when he heard the door shut again, but failed miserably. His students noticed, and chirped, but he was just too damn happy to care.

*** 

“Mr Bittle?”

Bitty looked up from the baking counter where he was making a list of the ingredients he’d need to pre-prepare for the next day’s class, and saw the two girls, Maddy and Norah, who were heading up the prom committee that year. “Hey there. Can I help you with something?”

Norah bit her lip and elbowed Maddy who rolled her eyes, but said, “So uh. Are you gonna ask Mr Zimmermann to prom?”

Bitty blinked at them. “Um. I uh…”

“It’s just…like just know that we’d all support you,” Norah said quickly. “Like literally everyone in the entire school. Mr Zimmermann has been so chill since you two started like…dating. Or whatever.”

Bitty tried not to blush, but by the way the girls grinned wider, he knew he was failing. “Well I uh…”

“You’re both down on the list to chaperone and we just…wanted you to know that it’s totes cool,” Maddy said.

Bitty bit his lip, then shrugged. “Well…we’ll see.”

The girls looked like they’d just won the lottery. “How are you gonna ask him?” Norah breathed, leaning on Bitty’s table. “Like…okay how did you ask your date when you were in high school?”

“Oh goodness I didn’t go to prom,” Bitty said, and when the girls looked distraught, he shrugged. “It’s fine, girls, really. I was…I grew up in the deep south, if you know what I mean. So I definitely couldn’t take who I wanted, and it was…just easier for me to not go than pretend.”

“So like…this is your first prom?” Maddy asked.

“Reckon it is,” Bitty said with a shrug.

“Ohhhh my god,” Norah cooed. “You gotta come up with something good. Like…I mean he’s totally gonna say yes.”

Bitty thought that yes, Jack definitely wouldn’t turn him down, but he certainly hadn’t thought of making a production out of it. It wasn’t like they’d be dancing or having a good time. They’d be there as chaperones and they’d have supervising to do.

But thinking about it, seeing the excited looks on the girls’ faces, Bitty was wondering if maybe he could let himself enjoy it at least a little. It would be his first, after all. And maybe he was allowed to have this. A bit.

“I’m sure I’ll come up with something,” Bitty said, and the girls nodded.

“If you need help, let us know. Like if you wanna have like a big sign or something, you know? We have tonnes of glitter and sh—er. Stuff.”

Bitty laughed. “Alright. Now scoot on out of here, I’m not writing you a note for next period.”

The girls laughed and hurried out, and Bitty went back to his task, shaking his head, and grinning like a damn fool.

*** 

“Brah, this prom is going to be the best,” Shitty said, nudging Bitty with his elbow.

Bitty laughed. “Yeah, sure. The kids will have a blast, and we’ll enjoy ourselves patrolling corridors and corralling teens attempting to sneak in booze and weed.”

“But we get to confiscate,” Shitty said, waggling his brows.

Bitty shook his head. “Someday when these kids grow up and understand just how fucked up the people in charge of their education are…”

“Rite of passage, Bits. Rite of passage.”

“Well anyway, I’m sure it’ll be great. But I have to run, I was supposed to be at Jack’s ten minutes ago, and I still need to run home and change.”

Shitty’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh yeah? Finally taking that big step?”

“Shut up,” Bitty said as he stopped by his car. “It’s not that. He’s having a few people over for some ESPN thing.”

Shitty gaped at him. “Are you telling me you’re about to go hang with his NHL friends?”

Bitty stared. “…no? That’s not…that isn’t what he said. He said he was having a few people over to watch this thing on ESPN. Friends, Shits.”

“Right, because Jack has those,” Shitty said, waggling his brows. “Brah don’t worry about them, I know most of them and they’re super chill.”

Bitty nodded, but internally he began to panic. _Were_ they NHL friends? Jack surely would have warned him if he was about to set foot in a room full of rich celebrities, right? Yeah. Yeah, he so would.

Bitty was calm by the time he got home, sending a text off to Jack, then he showered and threw on some jeans and a cardigan. Jack said to keep it casual, so he threw a beanie on over his wet hair, and headed out.

Jack had texted back a simple, **See you soon** , which further relaxed Bitty, and when he pulled up to Jack’s, there were only a couple of cars parked out front. Most of them were trucks, nice, but certainly not Ferraris or Jaguars so he relaxed and grabbed his phone, heading to the door.

He rang the buzzer, tapping his foot impatiently, and a minute later the door open and Jack was there, wearing a happy grin. “Hey, bud. Prom meeting go long?” He wheeled back to give Bitty room to walk in.

Bitty shrugged as he moved aside so Jack could shut the door. “Yeah. You know how those kids are. They want a million dollar prom on a thousand dollar budget, and they spent the last half hour arguing over whatever band they were trying to get and…” Bitty’s words dried up when he heard laughter, and glanced over to see Alexei Mashkov sat on the sofa. Next to Kent Parson. Next to Adam Birkholtz.

“Oh thank god.”

Jack lifted a brow. “Thank god?”

“It’s just Holster. And Tater. Shitty had me all worked up that Crosby or someone important was going to be here,” Bitty said.

“I resent that. I am so fucking much more worth hanging out with than Sid,” Kent shouted from the sofa.

Bitty laughed, but ignored him in favour of kissing Jack. “Sorry I was late though. I really did try to wrap it up early.”

“It’s okay,” Jack said, and squeezed his hand before wheeling over to the sofa. He parked his chair, put the brake on, then lifted himself to the corner seat, patting the space between him and Kent.

Bitty eased himself down, and laughed when Kent nudged him. Alexei was sat on the floor between Kent’s legs, and grinned up at Bitty. “Did I miss much?”

“Just baby Jack shitting in the Stanley Cup,” Holster said with a grin. “But I’m sure Bob’s got that on video. He played it on Jack’s cup day.”

“Fuck you,” Jack grumbled, and Bitty laughed, leaning into him. 

“Aww sweetheart, you know I don’t judge you for that.”

“No one judges,” Kent said solemnly. “We just don’t let him forget.”

“I hate you all,” Jack said, but dragged Bitty closer, tucking him under his arm. Bitty sighed happily, shifting so he could tuck his feet against Kent, and lean fully against Jack’s broad torso. The muscles beneath him were taut and firm, and made Bitty’s mouth water a bit. “Except you,” Jack murmured.

Bitty leant his head up for a kiss, and it carried on until Holster shouted, “I’m gonna fine your asses if you keep that up!”

Jack laughed, but pulled away and went back to the TV where the ads were just ending. Bitty’s eyes widened when he realised it was a special entirely dedicated to Jack’s career. He’d arrived in time for Jack’s entrance into the Juniors, and it showed one of Jack’s photos, wearing a Rimouski Jersey, smiling, looking awkward but adorable.

“Oh my god,” Bitty gasped. “Oh I would have had such a crush on you.”

Jack blinked at him. “Very funny.”

Bitty nudged him. “I’m not joking. Those eyes, that little smile. Oh god. I mean obviously I would have been way too shy to say anything ever but...” He trailed off and shrugged.

“I was chubby and awkward,” Jack said quietly.

“It worked for you,” Kent said with a laugh. “Shit, I was so into it. From like…day one.”

Jack pinked, but ignored Kent in favour of going back to the special. It wasn’t long before the narrator’s voice went darker, and morose music played, and they brought up Jack’s OD. A grainy photo of Jack and his parents walking into the rehab centre flashed on the screen, and Jack tensed.

“Sweetheart,” Bitty murmured.

Jack squeezed his hand. “It’s okay. I knew this part was coming. My dad’s about to…”

Jack’s words cut off as Bob Zimmermann appeared on screen. He was smiling softly, though looking sad. His eyes were like Jack’s, only dark brown, but the resemblance was so striking, it was almost startling. “…and we didn’t realise how we’d let him down,” Bob was saying. “He was out there on his own, attempting to be a teenager, but battling anxiety, and fame, and it all became too much. There was a certain stigma about mental health—still is in professional sports, and I don’t think Jack was the first or last to almost lose everything all because no one was paying attention to these players who were just kids. Just kids, under so much pressure.”

Bitty glanced at Jack who looked stoic, but calm enough. Still, he nuzzled in closer, and Jack grinned, and tucked his arm firmer round Bitty.

Luckily, the next bit was Jack’s entrance into the NHL, a year after Kent was drafted to the Aces. Bitty had been with Jack now several months, but he’d kept himself from looking up too much online. He wanted to learn everything he could from Jack himself, so when it showed Jack’s game-winning goal with the Habs, securing them the Stanley Cup in his second year of playing, Bitty gasped and sat up straight.

“Holy shit,” he said.

Tater laughed. “He’s still make goal like that. Is…scary.”

Jack rolled his eyes, but his cheeks were pink. “I’m no Gretzky.”

“No one is Gretzky but Gretzky and he’d smack you for even saying some dumb shit like that,” Kent chirped. “Suck it up, buttercup. You’re fucking amazing. Gotta deal sometime.”

“I seriously hope none of my students are watching this,” Jack said with a groan.

Bitty laughed. “Jack. Really?”

He covered his face with one hand. “They all are, aren’t they.”

“If they aren’t watching it live, you know one kid is gonna discover some gifs and it’s going to be all over the school tomorrow,” Bitty said, and Holster laughed until he cried.

The show went back to ads, and Jack quickly moved back to his chair to grab a few drinks, and Bitty settled back against the cushions. 

“Up next is the injury, isn’t it?” he asked.

Everyone went a bit quiet, and Holster nodded. “Yeah bro. He talk to you about it or…?”

“Yeah,” Bitty said. “I mean, not in extreme detail but…yeah. Is this like…going to be shitty for him? Should we turn it off?”

“He’ll be fine,” Kent said quietly. “He’s already seen most of what they’re airing so I think it’s okay. And I think they’re doing it tastefully. Not as fucking gross as they were when everyone started coming out.”

Holster’s face darkened. “Yeah. True.”

Bitty pulled a face, but smiled when Jack came back in, two bottles of beer perched between his knees. He handed them off to Bitty, then moved back to the sofa and tucked him close again.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Bitty murmured, and got a kiss—short though, to avoid the fine Holster seemed determined to charge that night.

Jack jumped, startled when his phone began to buzz in his pocket, and Bitty shifted so he could grab it. “Ah it’s my dad. I’d better take this.” Jack quickly answered, then put his dad on hold as he got back in his chair, and took the call to his terrace.

When the door shut with a firm click, Bitty cleared his throat. “So uh. I’m going to ask Jack to prom.”

There was silence before Kent said, “Is that like…some new trendy euphemism you picked up from the kids or…”

“No,” Bitty said, flushing a little. He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. “We’re um. We’re chaperoning prom and I never got to go to mine. So I thought it would be cute if I…” He trailed off, feeling shame rushing up and down his spine. “Goodness that’s so ridiculous and pathetic, isn’t it? Never mind, forget I said anything.”

“No,” Holster said, leaning forward. “That’s awesome, bro. And Jack will totally dig it.”

Bitty’s cheeks were hot, but he straightened his shoulders and offered a smile to the three men still staring at him. “So I was wondering if y’all had like…ideas? Something that wouldn’t horrify Jack but would also maybe like…be traditional. In the way that asking someone to prom is supposed to be ridiculous.”

Kent laughed. “You should do the proposal sign.”

“Holy shit, yes,” Holster said loudly, slapping his hand on this thigh.

“Uh. Proposal sign?” Bitty asked, now a little afraid. “I think it might be a bit soon for that?”

Kent shook his head. “Naw, Bits. Like okay, so back in Juniors, some girl showed up to one of our games with this big-ass glittery sign that said, Yo Marry Me Jack Zimmermann. One of the guys on the team convinced her to give it to him and we used to fuck around and take turns proposing. And somehow that shit caught on, and at least once a game there was ten or fifteen of the signs.”

“We always get one,” Alexei said, grinning. “Someone from team go into crowd, take selfie with the fan, get the poster. We hang it in room.”

Bitty laughed. “Well that’s cute but…”

“So make a Yo Go To Prom With Me Jack Zimmermann sign,” Holster filled in. “Then hold it up at the game. You’re coming to the game, right?”

Bitty’s eyes widened. “I am. You don’t think he’ll kill me?”

“Nah,” Kent said. “I mean, he’ll probably get chirped to death in the locker room because he’s getting asked to _prom_ …but it’s you so he’ll definitely love it cos you know…”

Bitty blinked, and swallowed, and willed Kent not to finish that sentence because he and Jack had been on four dates and if he was going to hear _that_ , he wanted it to be from Jack first.

Luckily Kent seemed to realise what he was saying, cleared his throat, coughed, and said, “So yeah. Cool. Sign. Right?”

“Right,” Bitty said, and stayed quiet, even when Jack returned and took Bitty back into his arms to finish watching the special.

*** 

All in all, it was nice, though the bits about Jack’s accident were hard for everyone. But Jack seemed calm about the whole thing, and after Kent, Alexei, and Holster headed out, he stayed relaxed, stretched out on the couch with Bitty curled up against him.

“So that was…interesting. I’m not gonna lie, I never thought I’d be dating a guy who got his own ESPN special,” Bitty murmured, kissing along the side of Jack’s neck.

Jack chuckled. “Aren’t you lucky then?”

“Shut up,” Bitty said, but he was grinning, though his grin melted into a kiss when Jack turned his head, and their lips met. He moaned softly as Jack’s fingers drifted up his shirt, splaying flat against the side of his ribs.

“Stay,” Jack murmured against his mouth.

Bitty pulled back slightly. “Um. Stay?”

“Tonight,” Jack clarified. “With me. We don’t have to…you know. Go too far if you’re not ready. But it’s late and it’s the weekend, and I’d like to wake up with you. I’ll take you to breakfast in the morning,” he added, as though Bitty might actually need to be bribed by his gorgeous boyfriend to spend the weekend at his place.

“I have no desire to go anywhere,” Bitty said, and shifted up onto his elbow a little, so their faces were more even. His own hand drifted lower, tugging up at Jack’s shirt, fingers tracing his abs. “Jesus you’re so…” He licked his lips. “Sometimes I still feel like that terrified little Georgia boy, you know? Who thought he was never gonna get his happy ending.”

Jack’s eyes went soft, and his hand came up, cupping Bitty’s cheek as his thumb traced over Bitty’s freckled. “But you had relationships before this, right?”

“One,” Bitty said with a tiny sigh. “And he wasn’t really out, out. And he wasn’t very nice. I spent so much of my time in college being afraid still. I kind of…settled. I mean I cared about him. Not sure if I really loved him. Thought I did. But it was…it never really felt good. Never felt like this. Which I know it’s only been four dates but…”

“Four dates, but months, Bits,” Jack said, and drew Bitty in for another long, slow kiss. “We’ve been together nearly all this school year. I don’t…I’m sorry it took me this long to have a weekend with you.”

“I understand,” Bitty said quickly. “Jack, it’s been just as busy for me. We had finals and you had hockey and your games, and the holidays. I’m happy. I just…really like you.”

Jack laughed, the sound deep and slow and wonderful as he drew Eric in close. “I really like you too. Why don’t we take this to bed, eh?”

Bitty flushed, but nodded as he sat up, and waited for Jack to slide back into his chair. They headed to the back bedroom—and it wasn’t new for Bitty. He’d been at Jack’s place a couple of times for various things and he’d been given the tour. But this was the first time he was staying and it felt…different. Heady and wonderful, and a little overwhelming.

His room was simple, of course, not that Bitty expected anything different. There were photos on low-hung wall shelves, his wardrobe across the room, and an en-suite bathroom with a wide door for his chair. His bed was on a low frame, which came up to Bitty’s knees, the perfect size for Jack to slide right onto from his chair. It was also unmade and rumpled, and Bitty felt a shiver up his spine when he thought of Jack laying there, sleepy and sweet and soft.

“You want me to get you something to sleep in?” Jack’s voice interrupted his musings, and Bitty turned, smiling when he saw Jack had already pulled off his shirt, and was moving to the bed so he could shuck his shoes, socks, and jeans.

“Um. Are boxers okay or…?”

“Whatever you want. Anything you want,” Jack said, his voice so sincere, it made Bitty’s eyes go warm.

To distract himself, Bitty walked to the edge of the bed and began to strip down to his boxers. He kept on socks, and carefully crawled across the bed, nestling into the covers as Jack grabbed one leg at a time, under the knees, and pulled them onto the bed.

His arm muscles tensed slightly as he pushed into the mattress and slid up to the pillows, and with a grin, Bitty helped him arranged the duvet so it was tightly snuggled round them both. Jack let out an easy sigh as Bitty tucked himself against Jack’s side, and their fingers laced together over Jack’s stomach. Bitty took a minute, focusing on the feeling of Jack’s coarse hair under his palm. The tactile stimulation was enough to get Bitty’s nerves back under control.

“Are you okay?” Jack asked. “You’re shaking a little.”

“I haven’t done this since…since my ex. Been in bed with anyone. And I want…I like you, and I’m attracted to you, and I want things. But I also might be…bad at it? He um. He had complaints, sometimes.”

Jack frowned, shifting onto his side slightly so he could meet Bitty’s gaze. “Bits, I want what you want. Sex for me is…well you know it’s a little more complicated than it was before my injury.” He took a breath, then shrugged. “I get the nerves. But I want to. I want you. I really like you, too.” His massive hand came up, the tips of his fingers touching round Bitty’s mouth, then cupped his cheek. “But I also want you to be comfortable and if you want to just sleep…”

“Can we kiss some?” Bitty asked. “And see how we feel?”

Jack chuckled again, nodding, and drew Bitty so he was half on top. Their mouths met, in a slow push-pull, tongues brushing together hot and slick, and Bitty felt it down to his toes. He groaned, pushing himself tighter against Jack, humming his pleasure when Jack’s fingers ran along the sides of his ribs.

Bitty and Jack had fooled round some on their dates. Mostly in Jack’s truck, with Bitty on his lap, and finding places on Jack’s neck and torso that made him groan and his breathing hitch. They’d had the talk about Jack’s limitations when it came to how much he could feel, and Bitty had already been made aware that sex with Jack would be different. But mostly Bitty just wanted to make Jack feel good. He wanted to erase the echoes in his head of his ex telling Bitty that he was a dead fish, that he was no good, and his past had fucked him up so much he’d never be any good at it.

Jack pulled away when he felt Bitty tense, and his hand came up to cup his cheek again. “Bits?”

“Sorry,” Bitty muttered. “Past haunting me again. Worst possible time, too.”

Jack shook his head, keeping one hand firm at the small of Bitty’s back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Bitty gnawed on his lip, then sighed. “Just. I want to be good. I want to be good for you. But I spent so many years hiding, you know? Being too afraid to touch myself, afraid what I was doin’ was wrong. Sinful. And when I started to break out of my shell my ex hated everything, constantly told me I wasn’t any good at it and I’m afraid. I want to be good for you.”

“You already are,” Jack murmured. His hand drifted up through Bitty’s hair, stroking through it. He took a breath. “After a spine injury, it’s hard to find pleasure with sex if you can’t feel it where you could before. The brain rewires pleasure centres, but…” He shrugged. “I had to be patient. And I never really wanted to give that to anyone I dated after because it felt…too close, is the only thing I can think of. But the other night in my truck, I had one of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had with you, right there in my lap.”

Bitty’s face flushed molten lava hot, and it took a full thirty seconds before he could speak again. “R-really?”

Jack laughed. “Yeah. I thought maybe you knew? Mon dieu Bitty it was…” Jack shivered, then raised his head and kissed Bitty as though there was nothing else he could do but that. “You were so good. So you don’t need to worry. We’re already there. We can keep going slow but…if that’s all that’s holding you back…”

Bitty cut Jack off with his own kiss, and his own wandering hands, and it wasn’t long before both of them were panting, and grabbing, and kissing, then coming.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: student against student violence/bullying (mild, not descriptive), and Bitty having his PTSD triggered by that. Discussions of Bitty's past with being bullied and beaten up. Mentions of Bitty's experience with homophobia. Fic also talks about Jack's injury, and his experiences/struggles with it.
> 
> Well this is the end. Basically I wanted to make up with the lack of fluff/cuddles in the first story with nothing BUT cuddles and fluff. So here you go. It's so gross. I'm disgusted.

Jack woke, hazy and warm and sleepy, a firm hand pressed against his sternum, and a body curled up against his side. It took him only a second to remember the night before, Bitty coming over, snuggling on the sofa as the ESPN special played, and how well he fit there with the people from Jack’s past.

Sometimes it was hard to have Kent, Tater, and Holster over. He stayed friends with most of his ex-teammates, but those three had been the closest, and they were still playing like Jack had always imagined he’d be doing. And most nights he was fine, but having Bitty there as they watched his life play out for the whole of the world to see, had been grounding. Because Bitty had been after that. Bitty was a different universe from who Jack used to be, and although he fit seamlessly with Jack’s past, he was more. He was something separate, something just for Jack.

And he hadn’t realised how much he needed that until Bitty was draped over him, kissing him, fingers finding every over-sensitive spot on his body and making him orgasm—nearly crying with the pleasure of it all. Bitty had crawled out of the bed, stumbling a little as he found a flannel, and wiped them down. They hadn’t bothered with clothes after that, happy to curl up into each other and fall into a sated, contented sleep.

It had been a long time, Jack realised, since he’d woken up feeling this happy.

And that startled him. He’d been content before, and he felt safe and he felt good about his life, but happiness had been out of reach.

Now, as he dragged his fingers through messy blonde hair, he felt a flame in his gut, flickering warm and consuming—in the best way. He felt his lips curving into a smile as he dipped his head low to kiss along Bitty’s temple, over his forehead. He delighted in the soft, sleepy murmurs Bitty made as he turned and frowned, nose wrinkling up, burying his face against Jack’s arm.

“No. S’too early.”

“Sun’s up,” Jack said quietly. His fingers drew down Bitty’s hair, over the back of his neck, just feeling the warmth under the pads of his fingers.

“Time’s it?”

Jack turned his head, peering at the clock. “Seven.”

“Nope. No. Seven does not exist on Saturdays, Jack Zimmermann.”

“I usually get a work-out in by eight,” Jack said quietly.

“You’re a monster. A menace,” Bitty grumbled, and slung his arm tighter round Jack’s waist.

Jack chuckled, grabbing Bitty’s other hand to kiss the inside of his wrist, then his palm. “Okay but I’m going to work out. You can stay and sleep.”

“M’going to,” Bitty said, and when Jack pushed himself up to sit, he burrowed himself deeper into the blankets, making Jack’s heart thump with affection.

He loved him. He loved Eric Bittle, which was a strange thought considering they spent most of their days trying to squeeze in five minute breaks here, and forty minute lunch breaks there at school—the rest of their evenings and weekends consumed with teaching responsibilities.

But Jack couldn’t help it. He’d blurted it out already to Kent, during one of their long chats, and Jack was relieved to be in a place he could tell Kent about it. And Kent had laughed and laughed. “Of all the fucking people in the world, you’d fall for a miniature baking teacher.”

But Jack hadn’t been bothered by the chirp. How could he, when he had this. He had Eric Bittle, who seemed to be just as smitten—even if he was not pleased with waking up early.

It put a smile on Jack’s face, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting out how he felt. Instead he grabbed the edge of his chair and slid in. He could feel the cold breeze, though not as profoundly as he once could, but he was enough he shivered all over, and he quickly grabbed his work-out clothes before heading for the bathroom to take care of his morning business.

Ten minutes later, he had an empty bladder, brushed teeth, and a pair of joggers and a tank top on.

One of Jack’s rooms was dedicated to his work-outs. A chunk of his money had been spent on a stationary bike he could propel with his hands, which would exercise his legs, and eliminate the need for the more convoluted leg exercises he’d been given during his rehab. He spent a good part of his morning working out, first on the bike, then on weights.

He was putting a little more effort into it, since he’d be playing the charity hockey game, and although he knew most of the able-bodied players were going to be shit at sledge hockey, he was still Jack Zimmermann, and determined to play like there was a gold medal or Stanley Cup on the line.

And he had to admit, he’d missed it. He’d missed the ice beneath him, sticks in his hands, pucks flying toward a goal. He loved coaching, but he was considering spending a little more time with the local sledge hockey team, though knowing it would cut into what little time he had now with Bitty was giving him second thoughts.

Jack found himself musing on that as he huffed through his first mile. The second was easier, and the third he’d hit his stride. By the fifth, the sun was up fully, coming through the large windows, casting a gentle glow over the room.

Jack’s stomach rumbled, but he ignored it in favour of grabbing his walker and standing. He only really used it at home. His legs were slow to respond, and didn’t support much weight, and he needed to move way too quickly at work for it. But it was nice to stand up some days, even if it took him ten minutes to reach the other side of his house. He’d grown past the frustrated stage, where he’d raged and wailed at the state of his legs, and though he supposed there would always be some bitterness about his injury, about how he’d been taken out of the thing he loved most by a well-timed check that hit exactly the way it needed to to change his entire world, he couldn't deny he'd reached a level of contentment with who he was.

He made it to the weight bench, sweating more from the walk than from his time on the bike, and he grabbed a dry flannel from the pile by the floor and wiped his forehead and hands off. Reaching for his gloves, he slipped them on, adjusted the weights, then straddled the bench and reached for the bar.

This was his favourite part of his work out. It felt effortless in a way, almost cleansing to feel his muscles strain and focus. He could lose himself in reps if he wasn’t careful, the way he once could when he’d take to the pavement to run for miles and miles.

Getting that back had meant everything to Jack. The ability to lose himself in a work out, for his mind to go blank and his body to take over. When he’d regained that routine, things had started to become easier. His path to teaching had become clearer, and his life had stopped seeming like it had ended.

He remembered the relief on his parents’ faces when they saw he was properly content, and the first time he’d introduced them to friends outside of hockey, they were so relieved, he almost laughed at their faces.

It was stupid, and he should have been insulted—sometimes he was—but mostly he was grateful they’d remained the same through the years. Steadfast, loving, and supportive. Through his anxiety, through his failings, his triumphs, his injuries, and his recovery.

“Jack?”

A small voice at the door startled Jack, and he turned his head, smiling when he saw a still sleep-rumpled Bitty leaning against the wall. He let the bar go carefully, listening for the clink of the weights settling back into place, then he swiped himself off again and beckoned Bitty over for a kiss.

“Oh my god, you’re so sweaty. Why is that so hot?” Bitty grumbled, curling his fingers in the damp curls at the nape of Jack’s neck.”

“Because I’m ripped,” Jack said, and pat his abs, making Bitty roll his eyes. “Besides, I’m sure you look just as good when you’re working up a sweat during figure skating.”

“I was always awkward at that,” Bitty said, sliding onto the bench to be a little closer. Jack curled one arm round Bitty, and smiled when the other man didn’t seem to mind the sweat, or the vague smell. “Like I had a routine and sometimes I’d have to work out in front of a mirror to watch my form and I always looked like a tiny goblin or something.”

That startled a laugh out of Jack, who cupped Bitty’s face and shook his head. “Well I’m biased. I guess I like tiny goblins.”

Bitty smacked his stomach with the back of his hand. “Don’t you chirp me before I’ve had my coffee. Are you taking me out? You did promise.”

“I guess I did,” Jack said with a sigh. “Let me shower first, eh?”

“Yeah probably best,” Bitty said, and kissed Jack before rising.

He stepped back as Jack reached for his walker, and Jack felt Bitty’s eyes trained on him, watching. He hadn’t done this yet, in front of Bitty, and he didn’t meet his eyes until he reached his chair.

“Does it hurt?” Bitty asked.

Jack shook his head as he pulled the brake and adjusted his feet. “No. It just takes more energy than I have most days. Sometimes on long weekends I use it. Keeps my muscles from atrophying too much, and keeps the blood flowing.”

Bitty hummed, walking over, and he ran a hand over Jack’s bicep. “You want coffee before we go? I’m gonna need at least one pre-breakfast cup.”

“You’re ridiculous. And no, I have a vitamin and protein shake in the fridge I’m gonna have first.”

“You disgust me,” Bitty groaned, but leant down and kissed him once more.

Jack smiled against Bitty’s lips, curling his hand into the bottom of the t-shirt he realised was his. It gave him a sudden thrill to see Bitty in his clothes. It let him feel possessive without feeling out of control and jealous of having to share Bitty with the outside world. It felt too soon to have those thoughts, and yet, here he was.

“Go, Mr Smelly. I’ll make our pre-gaming coffee.”

“Pre-gaming,” Jack repeated with a small chuckle, and he followed Bitty out of the weight room, parting ways to head to his own shower as Bitty went into the kitchen where Jack hoped that one day, he might feel at home.

*** 

Jack had a strange feeling in his gut all of Monday. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but it felt like everyone was agitated and on edge. Jack’s students had been more sullen than before, but he was used to that so close to finals. His seniors were stressed about graduation, his sophomores and juniors were stressed about SAT scores and college entrance exams, and the teachers were stressed about how there were still six more weeks left before they could kiss this place goodbye for a few months.

But it was more than that. Even Chowder, who was usually all smiles, wore a deep frown when Jack went to check on the track finals, and his sentences were short, mono-syllabic and soft.

Lardo was the only one who seemed herself, her students working on their final projects, but she seemed in her element, covered in glitter and wearing a soft expression.

“Are you and Shits coming to the game?” Jack asked as he loitered in her doorway.

She turned from the poster board she had almost entirely covered in glitter, and shrugged. “We wouldn’t miss it. You gonna email tix, or is this like a box office thing?”

“I’m going to get you seats in WAG,” Jack said, rolling into the classroom a little further. His eyes grazed over drying clay sculptures, impasto paintings on canvas, and a few abstract pieces that looked like they were made with silverware. “Also badges for the after party.”

Lardo grinned. “After party? So we get to watch you kick ass on the ice, then get shitty with you later?”

“It’s for charity,” Jack reminded her. “But yes.”

She laughed. “Sweet, brah. I seriously can’t wait. Bits excited?”

Jack shrugged. “He hasn’t said, but he hasn’t seen me play a game before so…I hope so.”

Lardo leant on her counter. “Bro, why do you sound nervous? Like…are you worried?”

Jack felt his cheeks pink. “It’s stupid. It’s…what Bitty and I have is outside of hockey. And he’s seen me coach but…I don’t want to do badly on the ice.”

She laughed as though she couldn’t help it. “Holy shit, Jack. You’re not going to do badly, and even if you do, he’s not going to care. Shit, would you give a shit if he burnt a pie?”

Jack frowned. “No but…”

“Same shit, different sport. You’re more to him than your accomplishments. Dude’s crazy about you, okay?”

Something warm flooded through his limbs, and Jack tried not to smile, but failed. “I guess the euh…feeling’s mutual.”

“Holy shit, get out before I call Holster and make him fine your ass,” she said, and flicked glitter at him.

He scowled as it landed in his hair, and brushed out as much as he could before rolling backward. “See you later? You wanna do dinner this weekend?”

“Double date?” she asked.

The grin was back, and he looked away before she could start chirping him. “Yeah sure. I’ll ask Bitty.”

“He’ll say yes,” she called after him, and he moved his wheels faster, before the conversation got out of hand.

On his way back to his classroom, he paused by Shitty’s office, but the door was closed and there seemed to be a commotion going on in the front office. Jack wanted to avoid any and all administration crises, so he hurried back to his room, and left the door just barely cracked as he rolled behind his desk and pulled out his stack of essays.

He was just getting into the first, sighing and marking the grammar issues with his red pen when there was light tap on the door, and his gaze snapped up. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone, but when Bitty’s head poked round the door, he softened.

“Hey, Bud. Come in.” He started to smile, but the look on Bitty’s face erased all happiness and he was overwhelmed with concern. He’d never seen Bitty look so low, almost terrified, his eyes wide and red. “Hey, close the door,” Jack said.

The gentle instructions seemed to help, and Bitty followed them, closing the door, then locking it, then drawing the shade. Jack checked the clock, seeing that he had another thirty minutes of his free period, and he rolled away from the desk, beckoning Bitty over.

He took the other man’s hand and squeezed. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I…” Bitty swallowed, then ran his free hand down his face. “Fuck.”

Jack startled. Bitty swore, but not readily, and he almost never swore at the school. His cheeks were pink, making his freckles stand out, and the tip of his nose was red. “You want to sit. Here…” He pulled away, grabbing one of the desk chairs, and pulled it close to his left wheel. Bitty dropped in it with a sigh, his hands shaking a little as he lifted them to run through his hair.

“Kids seemed off today, you know?” His voice trembled, and he cleared his throat after Jack nodded. “I have Jacobs in my third period. And Browne.”

“Which Browne?” Jack asked.

“Chad,” Bitty said, and Jack scowled. “He picks on Jacobs a lot. I’ve separated them as much as I can, but I had to run down and make copies of the ingredients list for their final, and when I got back up, I walked in just as Browne pushed Jacobs into…into an open oven.”

“Crisse,” Jack swore. “What…was it on?”

Bitty nodded, going a bit green. “It was. We’d been making coffee cakes. Most of the students were done. I pulled a couple of the girls out after we alerted the…after the…” Bitty swallowed thickly. “After Browne was detained and Jacobs was sent to the nurse, we were waiting for the um. Police. And they told me what happened.” Bitty turned his head away and let out a trembling gasp. “I’m gonna…they’re gonna fire me. I left those students alone and I’m…I shouldn’t have…”

“Bits,” Jack said, his voice firm and steady. “You’re not going to be fired. Those students were seniors, some of them eighteen. Every teacher leaves their class unattended for a few minutes at a time. It’s not…you won’t be fired.”

Bitty nodded, but his chin was trembling. “It was terrible, Jack. It…I couldn’t…I did alright, when I was there in the moment. When I was givin’ my statement.” His accent was getting thicker, and Jack could hear the tears under his breath threatening to break free. “When I was givin’ my statement, I kept thinkin’ about when I was a kid. The boys from my daddy’s football team and how they…” He stopped, clenched his jaw, and looked away.

Jack reached out, hesitating. “Bits can I touch you? Can I hold your hand?”

“I’d really like a damn cuddle,” Bitty admitted, and Jack wasted no time at all pulling Bitty into his lap. Bitty was tense all over, and it wasn’t the most comfortable for either of them, but Bitty fit his face right into the crook of Jack’s neck and let some of the tears seep out.

Jack rubbed his hand up and down Bitty’s spine, and he matched Bitty’s breath, then slowed his own and felt Bitty copy him. “I’ve got you,” he murmured softly. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

“I gotta meet with Hall and Murray after school. They want me to…” He breathed again. “I’m not sure what’s gonna happen.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Jack said. “I’m going to cancel practise tonight.”

“No,” Bitty said, sitting up quickly. “Jack…”

“My boys have been working their feet off,” Jack said, offering up a small smile. “And I think it’s only fair they get a night off. I’m going to wait for you, and whatever Murray and Hall say, you and I are going to pick up terrible fast food, and head back to mine, and watch Netflix and do whatever you want. Anything you want.”

Bitty let out a shaking laugh. “Thanks.”

“I’ve got you, Bits,” Jack reminded him. “Whatever you need.”

*** 

Bitty returned to his classroom, grateful for his training that he could tuck everything into tiny boxes and let them live there until he was safe to let it all loose. The hug from Jack almost made him break, but gave him a strange strength in a way, to get through the rest of his day.

His free period was during Jack’s second to last class of the day, so Bitty spent it in his own classroom, trying not to think. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if he lost his job. He had other skills, and if he could leave the job without a huge black mark on his CV, he’d be able to find another. Somewhere. He could maybe teach cooking at the community college or maybe some community centre class.

It wouldn’t be steady income like this, but he’d suffered dire circumstances before and he could weather it.

And this time he had Jack.

It felt weird to know he could rely on someone else, someone who seemed to love him for exactly who he was, instead of the person they wanted him to be, but it was also warm and soft and wonderful. Bitty bit the inside of his cheek lightly, to keep from crying, and his head snapped up when he heard a soft knock on the door.

It was Lardo, and she was carrying a giant poster board in her hands. “Hey. I heard what happened. You okay?”

Bitty took in a breath, and plastered on a smile. “Getting by. Is that my…?”

“It is.” She turned it, and Bitty’s eyes widened at the huge, massive, glittery request. Yo, Go To Prom With Me, Jack Zimmermann emblazoned across the front. It was perfect, and his eyes watered.

“Thanks,” he managed.

Lardo set the poster aside and quickly pulled Bitty into her arms. “Those tears aren’t because of my gorgeous work, are they?”

Bitty laughed wetly. “Not so much. But it means a lot. I’m just…not sure I’ll get a chance to go to prom. If um. If I get fired.”

Lardo scoffed. “Bits, two years ago one of the students busted Shitty with his bong. There wasn’t any weed in it, thank god, but it was a huge deal. And he didn’t get fired. He just had to go to like…sensitivity training and he had to fund an anti-drug lecture for the student body.”

“Oh brother,” Bitty said. “These kids…”

“We know,” Lardo said rubbing her hands along the tops of his shoulders. “But trust me, something like this. I mean Browne’s probably getting expelled, if not arrested for assault, but you’re going to be fine. Maybe a slap on the wrist for leaving the classroom, but we’ve all done it. I leave my seniors unsupervised with my kiln all the time. And they all signed waivers about working with ovens. It’s going to be fine.”

Bitty breathed easier than he had since the incident. He knew he’d deal with the fall out later. Not just from the kid, but from his own memories threatening to overwhelm him. It was too close to home, too close to his own experiences. He blinked, and there was a flash of himself with a black eye and split lip, and his father telling him, “Just ignore them and they’ll stop.”

They never did stop. He just grew up and moved away.

Now Jacobs would have to live with those scars the rest of his life—whether or not they were physical.

He hated this part. He hated that there were kids like that still out there, who were cruel and mean.

“Thanks,” he murmured, taking another breath. “It’s a lot but…I’m goin’ home with Jack tonight. And no chirping me about it.”

Lardo laughed. “Babe, I wouldn’t dare. Not today. I’ll save it for when we’re all feeling better.”

Bitty nodded. “Did Shitty get a chance to talk to Jacobs or…?”

“Both boys,” Lardo said. “They’re both gone now. Just… get through your day, and let that gorgeous French-Canadian Hockey God spoil the shit out of you until tomorrow. Deal?”

Bitty smiled and nodded. “Deal. Now go hide that. I don’t want Jack to see.”

She swept up the poster board, leaving a trail of glitter, but somehow he just couldn’t bring himself to care.

*** 

Bitty was all-but trembling, near to throwing up, when he reached the car park. Jack was there, waiting outside his truck, tapping away on his phone. His head snapped up when Bitty approached, and he let himself be drawn instantly into a hug.

“How’d it go?” Jack murmured as Bitty pushed his face into Jack’s neck.

“I’m being put on leave until Monday for stress. I’m not being fired.”

Jack sighed and when Bitty pulled back, Bitty half expected to see an I-told-you-so expression, but Jack only looked soft and worried. “I think the time off will be good for you. And I’m glad you’re still going to be here with me. I just…I hope you know even if things hadn’t gone like we hoped, I’d still…I’d do anything to help.”

“I know,” Bitty said quietly, and let Jack kiss him again.

After that, he climbed in the truck, and let himself sink into vague shock. He barely noticed the drive home, he couldn’t remember where they stopped, or what he ordered. He just knew he had his hand curled round a fizzy drink, and there was the smell of greasy fries in the cab of the truck.

They got into Jack’s, and he let his boyfriend lead him to the couch where things started to wake up again. His feelings were intense, strong, almost overwhelming him. He started to shake, and the very thought of eating made his stomach churn.

Jack wasted no time grabbing his fluffiest duvet from the linen cupboard, and wrapped it round himself and Bitty on the sofa, tugging Bitty up against his chest. Jack’s long fingers went into his hair, dragging through the freshly shaved sides, then along his cowlick.

“Do you want to talk, or do you want quiet?”

“Um.” Bitty honestly wasn’t sure. He’d had a few moments where he’d been triggered in the past, but this had hit closer to home than anything.

“You want me to talk?” Jack offered, and Bitty nodded.

So Jack talked. He told Bitty stories about him and Kent in the Q. He told him about his awkward dancing at his bar mitzvah, and about forgetting his Hebrew halfway through because he’d been so anxious about forgetting. He told Bitty about the first time he touched ice after being drafted into the NHL, and his first real girlfriend, tennis star Camilla Collins. He told Bitty about Holster’s bus pranks, and Alexei first learning English, and how Tater and Kent met and fell in love.

By the time he was done, Bitty wasn’t shaking anymore, and he wasn’t nauseated, and he wasn’t crying.

He turned in Jack’s arms, hooked a leg up round Jack’s thighs, and touched his cheek. “I love you,” he said.

Jack’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened, then shut. Then opened again, though he didn’t say anything.

“It’s alright if you don’t say it. I know it’s fast, I know we haven’t spent a lot of time together. But I thought…it seemed fair to tell you. Cause I do.”

Jack’s face did a strange, sort of twitchy thing, then he kissed Bitty as though he couldn’t help it. He pulled away, giving himself just enough room to speak, and as he murmured, his lips brushed Bitty’s. “I love you too. Je t’aime. Bits I…I have for…a while, I think.”

Bitty laughed, and pushed his face into Jack’s neck again. “Can’t say I’m unhappy about that, Jack. I mean, I’m sorry it had to be tonight, me tellin’ you. When I’m such a mess but…”

“Bud,” Jack said quietly, pulling Bitty up so he could look him in the eyes. “I don’t care when. You telling me at all means…everything. Thank you. And I love you.”

Bitty laughed and held Jack tight. “I love you too.”

They ate after that, starved suddenly, and though Bitty didn’t feel better, he felt safe. And it had been a really long time since he could claim that.

*** 

“When I was fourteen,” Bitty said, hours and two orgasms later, “these boys on my daddy’s team were pickin’ on me. Had been for a while. Didn’t like my figure skating, thought I was a homo. Jokes on them, they were right, but I’m not ashamed of it.”

Jack had his head resting on Bitty’s thigh, one hand over his knee, Bitty’s fingers in his hair. His mouth was still pink from having sucked Bitty off, and he wore a flush from his own orgasm. “You shouldn’t be. You’re amazing.”

Bitty hummed, and dragged his blunt nails along Jack’s scalp. “Well my dad had words with them. Because I’d come home once or twice with bruises. They’d shove me into desks, against lockers. Little things like that. My parents wanted me to just lay low. Made me quit skating but…it didn’t help. Coach thought if I stood up to them I’d…they’d stop. So one day I just got tired and I did. Told ‘em they were a bunch of redneck losers who’d be lucky to ever be loved. They walked away but later…after practise they…” Bitty took a breath. “They beat me up pretty bad, locked me in the supply cupboard. They knew the janitors were gone for the night so. I was there til mornin’.”

“Bits,” Jack said behind a breath.

“It was terrifying. I was bleeding and sore. Cracked rib, black eye. I was afraid no one would ever find me. But someone unlocked it first thing. My parents had a search. Those boys got suspended, but they were football stars. So they…” Bitty sighed. “They got an easy sentence. Didn’t miss a game.”

“Crisse,” Jack spat, his grip on Bitty’s knee going tight for a bit. “You want me to beat them up?”

Bitty laughed. “As much as I’d love for you to defend my honour, sweetheart, there’s no point. They’re long gone, and I’ve got you and I’m happy.”

Jack was tense for a moment, then turned his face and pressed a soft, slightly open-mouthed kiss to Bitty’s thigh, then pushed up against the mattress and moved up so he could lay next to Bitty. “I’m sorry today brought all that back for you. It isn’t fair you can’t escape it. I…I know how it feels. Sometimes there are moments I’m watching a game and someone takes a bad check and I…” Jack stopped and shrugged. “I don’t have a lot of memories. I was pretty concussed along with the spine injury but…I have flashes. And panic attacks.”

Bitty touched Jack’s cheek lightly with the tips of his fingers. “So we both have PTSD. And we both have each other. And that’s somethin’ right?”

Jack smiled at him, grabbing Bitty’s hand, and pressed a kiss to each fingertip. “Yeah, bud. Yeah we do.”

*** 

At twenty-nine years old, Eric Bittle does not imagine he’d be standing in the Wives and Girlfriends section of a hockey game holding up a sign that’s raining glitter, reading- ‘Yo, Go To Prom With Me, Jack Zimmermann,’ and yet…here he is.

Jack’s on the ice, doing a lap with the rest of his team, and Bitty’s waiting for him to notice.

He’s holding his breath, and he’s thinking what if it was a proposal sign, and then he realised that some day it would be, because Bitty wants that. God he…he really really wants that.

Some of Jack’s teammates noticed. Bitty saw a few of the proposal signs in the stands and he laughed at them, but this is something else. He can see a camera was moving, pointing at him, but he decided not to care and prayed Jack wouldn’t either.

Jack pushed his sticks into the ice and shoved his sledge toward the stands and Bitty could see his eyes narrow, his mouth—thick with a mouth guard—reading the words. Then he smiled. And his cheeks went pink. He shook his head and spat out his mouth guard and Bitty could see his lips forming the words, “Yeah. Yes. Ouais.”

Bitty let the sign drop, but he didn’t relax until Jack zoomed past Kent Parson, shot the puck, and sank it for the game-winning goal.

*** 

Jack wheeled into the main room where the banquet was taking place, and his eyes immediately found Bitty across the room talking to Thirdy—probably about baking since apart from poetry, Thirdy was also an aspiring chef.

Jack felt exhausted, and annoyed in his suit, and wanted nothing more to have Bitty in his arms, back at his place, under soft covers. But he’d get through the night, and the chirps which had already begun over the prom invite.

“Bring him a corsage,” someone shouted. “Rent a limo!”

Jack flipped his middle finger as he wheeled across the floor, and came to a stop next to Bitty. “Lardo’s work?”

Bitty laughed. “Yeah. The glitter give it away?”

“She got it all over my hair a few weeks ago. Nice one, by the way. Not even the kids were that clever this year.”

Bitty laughed as he leant down, kissing Jack quick and chaste. “Well none of the kids have famous hockey player boyfriends, do they?”

“Little Bitty,” came Alexei’s booming voice. He was dragging Kent by the hand. “Why you are not invite me to prom? I’m much prettier than Zimmboni.”

“What can I say? I’m partial to blue eyes,” Bitty said with a shrug, dropping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “And something tells me he’s a better dancer.”

Jack laughed. “Bud, I have some bad news for you. I have never had rhythm. And we’re going to be a bit busy.”

“Yeah, fucking in empty classrooms,” Kent said.

Bitty smacked Kent’s arm. “Hush your mouth, we’re proper gentlemen.”

Kent laughed. “That,” he said slowly, pointing a finger at Jack, “is not what he’s said.”

“Betrayal,” Bitty hissed, and Jack laughed, yanking Bitty in for a kiss. Bitty’s head swam with it, the warmth and comfort. Jack said yes. It was just prom, but he said yes, and it felt good, and he had this, and it was…everything. “I love you,” he breathed right up against Jack’s mouth, holding his cheek.

Jack grinned back. “I love you too.”

Bitty was certain he’d never get tired of hearing those words.

*** 

Jack was doing his best not to laugh as Bitty hurried along the corridor. There were voices somewhere far off, Shitty and Lardo, he thought. Or maybe Chowder and Caitlyn. But they were far ahead, and they were slipping into an empty, dark classroom.

Bitty had the lock and the shades, and Jack had his hips, and yanked him down. Their mouths met, frenzied and soft, warm tongue meeting warm tongue, and Jack’s head spun when Bitty groaned.

“Fuck,” Jack said, tugging at Bitty’s belt loops until Bitty fell into his lap. “Better.”

Laughing, Bitty pressed butterfly-soft kisses across his mouth, down the length of his jaw, sucking in the spot just under his ear he knew Jack liked best. “Jack,” he breathed behind a moan. Jack’s fingers were working at Bitty’s trousers, tugging at the zip, drawing him out, closing round him in a tight, firm, sure rhythm that got Bitty off every time. “Jack.”

“I won’t make a mess,” Jack swore, and suddenly he was pushing Bitty up, and over, and onto a desk which was the exact height Jack needed to get his mouth round Bitty. Bitty groaned, and dragged his fingers along the back of Jack’s neck, a motion familiar and perfect, making Jack shiver and groan and feel his own pleasure building, cresting, crashing.

Bitty was seconds behind, and Jack swallowed down the mess, then pulled away and carefully tucked Bitty back inside before yanking him down into his lap again.

“Does this make up for the lack of dancing?” Jack murmured, pushing his face into Bitty’s neck.

Bitty laughed. “Only if you promise to dance with me at our wedding.”

The thrill that sent through Jack’s entire body was almost too much to process. Still he managed to pull back and chirp, “Sure of yourself, aren’t you Mr Bittle.”

Bitty was smiling, touching Jack’s face. “Sure of you, Mr Zimmermann. Sure of how much I love you, and how much you love me.”

“Yes,” Jack breathed. “Yes I do.”

Bitty laughed soft and easy, and dragged his fingers through Jack’s hair. Jack knew then they’d get back to patrol looking well-fucked and dishevelled, but how could he care when he had this gorgeous man who wanted to marry him, love him forever.

“I’ll dance with you,” Jack said after a minute, his breath fully caught up, somewhat composed. “Any time you want, but especially at our wedding.”

“We can have it in Montreal,” Bitty said, playing with Jack’s collar before straightening it. “My parents will like it there, and your parents will love me forever for letting them show off.”

“The amount you three get along terrifies me,” Jack said, deadpan, even in spite of his smile. 

Bitty shrugged. “What can I say. I’m charming. And so are they.”

“Well I’m happy,” Jack replied, and brought Bitty’s hand to his mouth again, to kiss his knuckles, then the inside of his wrist, then his palm. “And I do want to marry you.”

“Well you gotta propose right, Mr Zimmermann.”

“With a poster board? And glitter?” Jack asked with a huge smile.

Bitty threw his head back and laughed before ducking down to kiss Jack. “Yes. I’ll accept nothing less.”

Jack held on tight, and closed his eyes, and breathed.


End file.
